


The Fallen Queen

by Suliana



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Abusive Spouse, F/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Rape/Non-con Elements, marital rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suliana/pseuds/Suliana
Summary: Abusive!husband Fell!Asgore and Toriel.Bad goatdad, bad.Note the tags.





	The Fallen Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is, other than I really felt the need to write it. 
> 
> Anyways, this is the Fell!Toriel backstory that no one asked for and I'm not entirely sure anyone wants.
> 
> Definitely check the tags kids.

She considered herself a good person, or had, given what their world was like.  She tried to treat everyone equally, she was their  _Queen_ and they loved her, or seemed to.

Then the War happened.  

Things had changed, trapped Underground.  The people,  _her_ people, had gotten colder, darker, more violent.   _He_ had become a despot.  She had become withdrawn, sometimes angry, and her feelings and emotions had become nebulous.  She was not the same monster that had been trapped, decades ago.  

She was doubly trapped.  After the Fall, when Asgore had lost himself, after the death of Asriel,  _he_ had locked her away with limited access to food, magic, freedom.

She had considered herself a good person.

She had loved him once.

Now?  She hated him with a burning passion.

* * *

She tugged irritably at the collar around her neck, gritting her teeth.  Asgore followed very specific patterns, and he was due to arrive soon.  

She  _hated_ him.

She hated how his paws felt against her fur, against her breasts, against her thighs.  She hated how heavy he was above her.  She hated that he rutted against her, nightly, grunting.  She hated that there was little to no recognition in his eyes, that he kept asking where Asriel was, as he pumped into her.  

She hated the suppression magic he kept on her, keeping her from her powers, from escape.  

The door clicked shut and she cursed foully in her mind for being distracted.  She stood from her chair and put her back to the wall.  She would  _not_ make this easier on him.  

She never did.

He stepped in, his regal trappings left behind somewhere.  He had learned that she would try to choke him with anything he wore around his neck.  Instead, his broad chest was bare, white fur smoothed down.  He also wore no belt into her chamber any more, for obvious reasons.  

He towered over her, and she was not a short monster.  She growled, low in her throat, arms folded across her chest.  "Asgore," she hissed, refusing to give him any more.  

"My Queen," he growled back, fingers flexing at his side.  His eyes, red as blood, locked onto her form as he prowled forward, stopping just outside of her arms-reach.  "Why are you not prepared for me, milady?"

This was one of his normal games, acting as if she was still his willing wife.  It was one of the games that hurt the most, bringing her back to the time when the sun would warm her fur and she would play with Asriel in the gardens, back on the Surface.  Today would not break her, she swore to herself.  Yesterday hadn't, nor had the day before, but Stars Above, this would be over soon, one way or another.

"I have no desire for your company, Asgore.  Feel free to leave."

His eyes never left hers, nor did they show any evidence that he had heard his words.  His pupils had dilated from their normal bar-shape to a pinprick, and she knew in that moment that he wasn't really there, and anything she said would be pointless.  Instead, he reached out, grabbing her wrist tightly in his own.  

She cursed again under her breath, damning his longer reach, as he pulled her to the bed.  The simple shift that was all she was permitted was ripped away, the fabric tearing strangely loud in the otherwise silent room.  She didn't go quietly, struggling at every tug, hissing through her teeth.  

A shove in the small of her back had her face down on the bed, backside lewdly in the air.  Instinctively, she tried to cover herself with her tail, which only lead to a dark chuckle from above.  Her wrists were gathered into one of his massive paws and forced up to the middle of her back, wrenching a whine from her otherwise clenched jaw.  The strain on her elbows was something he loved to use against her, and was something she couldn't fight no matter how she tried.  

He swept her legs from beneath her, leaving her hanging from the end of the mattress.  A weight settled beside her, and the warm weight of his own paw across her bottom had her clenching her eyes shut.  In normal cases, or years ago, when she had truly loved him, it would have been romantic, sensual, but this was not the same Asgore as those times.  This Asgore purposely brushed the fur against the growth-grain, making her skin pull and tug uncomfortably as the fur tugged out of its normal position.  He continued to stroke, pushing the fur into random patterns.

She knew his pattern, what was coming.

The sharp string of a furred paw striking her bottom tore a grunt from her.  Another, then more, rained down, and she knew the skin beneath her fur was starting to glow red.  He was far larger than she, and didn't moderate the force of his strikes.  Once, he might have done that for her, but that was before the War.  

Now he was a cruel bastard who would more than likely kill a subject than listen to their words.  She was no longer what she what was either.  She had once been strong, a Boss monster in her own right.  Now she let her husband rape her as she plotted her escape, as she felt the solidity of her mind crack with each impact.

The next blow hit the bottom of her slit and she gasped, hating herself for reacting at all.  The dark part of her mind, the part that had been coming out more and more, wished she could just castrate the bastard.

The hand holding her wrists jerked them up a bit higher and now she moaned, the pressure on her shoulders almost intolerable.  The weight beside her vanished, and instead she could feel his fur brushing against her thighs.  When had he removed his pants?  No, this wasn't part of his routine.  He always beat her until she was a beyond a trembling mess, sometimes unconscious even, before going to this.  No, he couldn't do this yet, she wasn't ready no Asgore what are you doing no not yet-

She didn't realize she was begging out loud until her words choked off in a scream as he pushed her tail roughly to the side and thrust into her, half-hilting in one motion.  A second thrust had him completely seated, her scream still echoing off the walls of the tiny cell.  He released her wrists and planted a paw on each hip, setting a punishing pace.

Her own paws free, she clutched the sheets desperately, sobbing at the burning pain.  She hadn't been  _ready_.  Why was he breaking from routine?  No, there were rules he had to  _follow_ that made things _livable_ , he couldn't do this-  

His claws dug in, and she could feel blood welling through her fur.  Trying to kick out was useless with his weight above her, and he leaned further over her, his beard hanging over her shoulder and hitting her cheek.  She snapped at him, her sharp teeth coming close to his face. 

Closer than he liked, apparently.  One hand came off her hip and pushed roughly down on her neck, forcing her face into the sheets.  That, in turn, forced her back to arch painfully into his thrusts.  

If nothing, it was her sheer hatred of him that kept him from getting any impression of her enjoying his violations.  

She could tell he was close when his hips started to stutter, his claws digging deeper into her fur.  

Then he was pulling free, half of his release dripping from the apex of her thighs, the rest beading on the fur across her back.  

He didn't even bother throwing a sheet over her still form as the door clicked shut behind him, the lock turning from the outside.

How  _dare_ he break the routine.  How  _Angel above_ dare he?  

Her escape plans were now morphing in her mind, as his cum dried into her fur, from just a clean escape to now include a healthy dose of revenge.

_No one_ would cross her again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to go sit in the corner now. I should totally be working on Hoarding or my Valentine's Day prompts instead, but, well... y'know....


End file.
